


Do You See What I See?

by IBoatedHere



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, M/M, PR Bitty, Santa!Tater, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: Jack might have one eye on Tater but the other is on Eric Bittle, Head of Public Relations, who is standing very close to him and smells very good. Like vanilla and sugar and the spice of the mulled cider that he’s ladling into his cup.





	

“You’ve been such a good girl this year! Of course Santa will get a you pony!”

Tater laughs, fake stuffed belly bouncing up and down as Thirdy’s daughter, Ella, giggles and claps her hands. Thirdy stands off to the side shooting daggers at Tater.

Tater has almost _over embraced_ his role as Santa for The Falconers Christmas party. He looks like he’s having a blast.

Ella stretches up and speaks directly into his ear and Tater’s quiet for a moment as he listens.

Then he leans back and laughs again. “Of course you get two ponies! Very smart. That way one pony won’t get lonely. Your daddy must be proud you such a thoughtful and kind little girl. Two ponies for you. You know, why not three ponies?”

Ella shyly says “thank you, Santa.”

“Yes,” Thirdy says darkly. “Thank you, Santa.”

Tater reaches out and slaps Thirdy on the back. “Ho, ho, ho, who is next?”

Marty warily hands over baby Sam who immediately pulls on Tater’s fake beard.

“What’s that, little one? You want private jet? No problem, Santa get you that.”

Jack might have one eye on Tater but the other is on Eric Bittle, Head of Public Relations, who is standing _very_ close to him and smells _very_ good. Like vanilla and sugar and the spice of the mulled cider that he’s ladling into his cup.

Jack has never had to spend an extensive amount of time with the PR department. He’s been dealing with the press almost all his life and strives to live a quiet and private life outside of hockey. No scandals, no missteps. He’s much more likely to be in for the night by eight on days off than at a club making questionable decisions. 

He was shocked when Bittle called him into his office and asked him to have a seat, all formal and businesslike and Jack was racking his brain as he tried to figure out what he could have done wrong.

Bittle handed over a new phone and said “Jack Zimmermann, are you aware you’re the only player not represented anywhere on social media? I’d like to change that.”

He walked him through the steps of sending a tweet and posting a photo to Instagram and clucked his tongue when Jack told him he was worried he was too boring for anyone to care about.

“I can promise you you’re not boring.”

“But I don’t do anything.”

“That’s not boring, that’s just quiet. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable and I can’t _force_ you use either of these accounts but if you see something you like take a photo of it, slap a filter on it, and hit post.”

That probably should have been the end of it. A five minute lesson and then Jack should have been on his way but Bittle had shown him some of his own posts as an example and Jack saw a _#FBF_ photo from when he had been on his college hockey team and well, Jack could talk hockey for hours.

They formed an easy sort of friendship after that. Every conversation they had was professional and work related and no matter how many times Bittle told Jack that it was okay for him to call him Bitty, he didn’t. Jack liked the way he rolled his eyes each time he said his last name. 

Jack would text him photos and ask Bittle if he thought he should post it and what the caption should be. Bittle would always help him out and end every interaction with a smiley face emoji that made Jack smile down at his phone. 

A few months ago after a home game Jack had taken a photo of the empty locker room. It was a mess after a hard fought win and figured it would be easier to speak to Bittle face to face. That way Jack could thank him in person instead of over the phone maybe they could go get dinner somewhere because Jack was starving and needed to eat and he wouldn’t turn down the idea of company.

Jack got to Bittle’s office just as he was locking the door behind him.

He had loved the photo and suggested that Jack caption it with the score of the game and looked very apologetic when he turned down his offer for dinner.

“Honey, I would love to but I’m actually running late for a date right now.”

Jack’s years of media training had immediately kicked in when he faked a smile and hid what he was really feeling and said “let me walk you to your car.”

“I’m getting picked up here,” Bittle’s phone dinged in his hand. “He’s out front now.”

 _He’s_.

Jack had thought- hoped. 

The silenced stretched for far too long and the frown on Bittle’s face got deeper and deeper.

“Well,” Jack finally said, “hope you have fun.”

The following morning Jack knocked on Bittle’s door with an apology on his lips for how strange he acted but what came out was _“I’m thinking of coming out to the team.”_

Bittle’s eyes had gone wide for the briefest moment before they settled as he took a deep breath. “Why don’t you close the door and take a seat.”

“I can’t believe none of the kids question why Santa has a thick Russian accent,” Jack says as Tater, now child free, tries to pull Snowy down into his lap.

“Santa is Santa.” Bittle takes a picture on his phone and posts it directly to the Falconers Twitter. “They don’t care what he looks like or sounds like as long as he’s wearing a red suit and has a beard.” He pockets the phone and cuts a huge slice of pie and drops it onto Jack’s plate.

Jack opens his mouth but Bittle’s quick and covers his lips with his hand. “If I hear the words diet plan come out of your mouth so help me God, Mr. Zimmermann. One piece isn’t going to mess with your game. Plus, it’s Christmas.”

“It’s December 15th,” Jack says when Bittle pulls his hand away.

“It’s the Christmas season and it’s a small slice.”

“In what world is this a small slice?”

“My world,” Bittle says as he grabs a fork and spears a piece for him. He holds it up to Jack’s mouth and waits for Jack to open it.

It’s delicious, just like everything Bittle has made that Jack has snuck a taste of and Jack could see himself eating the whole slice and the rest of the pie if he ever let himself.

He wants to tell him that but as soon as he swallows the piece down Tater is calling for him.

“Zimmboni! Come sit on Santa’s lap! No children for you so you come sit and tell Santa what you want.”

“Ha. I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, Zimmboni,” Bittle says as he swings the fork around. “Go sit on Santa’s lap. That way you don’t have to deal with me force feeding you pie.”

 _I really don’t mind,_ Jack thinks but Bittle is pushing him towards Tater with a huge smile on his face and Jack is willing to do anything to keep it there.

“I thought we were friends, Bittle,” Jack complains but he’s moving on his own now and smiling back at him.

“We are which is why I’m not going to post anything to Twitter.”

Tater makes grabby hands that wrap around Jack’s waist when he’s within reach.

“Snowy try to elbow me in face. You be nicer.” 

Tater groans when Jack settles his whole weight across his lap. Their teammates laugh and start taking pictures.

“You said you wouldn’t post anything,” Jack says as Bittle pats his head.

“I said I wouldn’t. I can’t stop them. Now be a good boy and tell Santa what you want.”

Jack watches Bittle walk away and when he turns back Tater is grinning at him through his fake beard.

“Little Jack Zimmermann,” he says as he ruffles Jack’s hair, “tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

“Well. Um…I guess more points.”

“Predictable. What else?”

“A hat trick would be nice.”

“Boring, Zimmboni.”

“To win the cup.”

“We all want that. What do you really want?”

“I told you everything I want.”

“Everything? Not leaving anything out. Nothing about what you want off ice? Nothing about a small, warm, sunshiny, boy that works in PR and bakes pies?”

Jack tenses. His teammates have lost interest and Bittle is far enough away that he can’t hear. He’s crouched down talking to Ella anyways and Jack forgets himself for a moment and smiles. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Remember Santa is always watching. He sees you always talking and laughing. Bittle feed you pie and you love it. You look at him with eyes like hearts.”

“Heart eyes,” Jack winces because Bittle is the only reason he knows that phrase and that doesn’t help his case. “It doesn’t matter, Tater.”

“It does.” He sounds more like Tater and less like Santa. Like the veteran who was only a few years older than Jack when he started but still took him under his wing and looked out for him. Who never made him feel bad about skipping out on the team when they went to bars to celebrate or commiserate. Who just wants the best for him. “Bitty look at you with heart eyes too. Go tell him how you feel.”

“How?”

“Pull him under mistletoe.”

“Tater…”

“Just say _‘Eric Bittle, I think you're cute. Have dinner with me.’_ That simple.”

“It’s not.” It never is.

“Can be if you try. Never know if you don’t. It’s Christmas, Jack. Time to be merry.”

Jack looks towards Bittle who is laughing at something Thirdy and Carrie have said and Jack just _wants._

Tater pats Jack on the back. “Now up you go, too heavy. Legs are falling asleep.”

“Thanks, Tat-Santa,” he catches himself Tater is handed a little girl with bouncing blonde curls. The daughter of one of security guards. “Thank you, Santa.”

“Is no problem. Go get your present. Thank me by making me best man at wedding.”

“Only if you wear that.”

He gapes at Jack then tickles the girl until she giggles. “Santa always wears this.” He waves a hand at Jack, dismissing him and turns all his attention to her. “You tell Santa what he can get you for Christmas.”

Bittle holds out his phone when Jack gets to him. It’s a photo of him and Tater posted to Snowy’s twitter account. It’s been liked and retweeted thousands of times.

“It’s not a bad photo,” Jack says, too nervous to chirp.

“It’s adorable,” Bittle says as he taps his fingers against the screen a few times then pockets it. “So, what did you ask Santa for?”

Bittle beams up at him and if Jack were a little more brave and his teammates weren’t so photo happy he would lead him over to the mistletoe hanging above the door and kiss him.

“Have dinner with me?”

Bittle’s smile drops, just slightly, but it’s not enough to deter him. “What?”

“Do you want to go out with me? On a date. We could get dinner.”

Bittle’s smile slowly returns. “Is that what you asked Santa for?”

“That’s what Santa told me I wanted and it turns out he knows me pretty well.”

“That so,” Bittle drawls as he pushes himself up onto his toes to press a kiss against Jack’s cheek.

No one takes a picture but Jack doubts he’d care if they did. Now that he knows how good it feels to finally be this close to him he feels like showing it to the whole world.

“Dinner would be great, Jack.”

******

The photo is of the snow falling outside of his apartment building. It’s covering the lights on the railing of his patio making them appear more muted and dreamlike. All of Providence looks quiet and sleepy and cozy beneath the blanket of white.

His fingers hover over the keyboard as he tries to figure out what to type.

“Just write Merry Christmas,” Bittle says from beneath the covers. He sticks one arm out towards Jack. “Come back to bed.”

Jack smiles at the Bittle shaped lump in his bed, types out Merry Christmas, then takes his hand.


End file.
